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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121424">A Holier Thing Than Hell or Highwater</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip'>swampslip</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Massage, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, Traumatic Injury, mostly s1 and s2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:01:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is… A difficult thing,” Flint says slowly. </p><p>“I’m not saying this to be-”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I just can’t seem to… Move on.”</p><p>“Why should you?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Why should you <i>move on?”</i> Flint asks quietly, gestures at the pinking, slowly healing end of Silver’s thigh, “This isn’t a moment that will fade into the oblivion of living. You won’t forget this, nor should you.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Holier Thing Than Hell or Highwater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i fucking cannot deal with how this show ended</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silver's wedged between a rock and a hard place. </p><p>Or a wall, and Flint. </p><p>Flint stares down at him, knife blade tucked against the soft skin on Silver's throat and this is becoming a far too frequent position for them. </p><p>They're hidden in a corner below deck while that 'Captain' up top leads them towards certain failures. </p><p>Or successes, if you're Flint. </p><p>"You're too quick for your own good," Flint says under his breath. </p><p>"I've no plans of telling them, if that's your reason for this highly uncomfortable-" Silver cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as Flint presses closer, presses the blade in harder, "Captain-"</p><p>"I'm not your captain," Flint murmurs, still studying him intensely and Silver's back <em>aches</em>, being crushed against the wood.</p><p>"You will be," Silver says slowly, "Again, you will."</p><p>"You said you have no interest in being a pirate," Flint says under his breath. </p><p>"I have many interests but no," Silver's breath hitches when the blade shifts, stings his throat with the barest of friction and it's only then he realizes the knife is dull, "I don't have any plans of permanence, here."</p><p>"No one does."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"No one plans to be a <em>pirate</em> forever," Flint says lowly and leans back slightly, pushing himself away with his other hand on Silver's shoulder. </p><p>"Well…" Silver trails off, staring at the older man with all the uncertainty of any who'd have the shit luck of being on the wrong side of Flint's blade.</p><p>Dull, as it may be.</p><p>"Where do you see yourself?"</p><p>"At ease," Silver says, "Unworried."</p><p>"Are you worried, now?"</p><p>Silver's brows draw together and he glances down at the wrist holding the knife incredulously. </p><p>"I'm not going to kill you," Flint mutters, "You know that much."</p><p>"Do I?"</p><p>"Sorry," Flint shifts and tilts his head and it's mocking, "Are you thicker than you seem?"</p><p>"Well, yes, I'm quite densely built, in fact, which is why I'm not terribly fond of being on the ocean-" Silver tenses when Flint presses closer for a moment then pulls back entirely, turning and walking away. </p><p>Leaving Silver wondering what the older man had accomplished with that gentle threatening of his life. </p><p>--</p><p>There are quiet moments that rip the standing out from under him, leaving him uncertain where there is even a <em>place</em> to stand, let alone if he has a standing.</p><p>With Flint, at the older man’s side. </p><p>Or at the bottom of the ocean.</p><p>Or six feet buried below the blood-stained sand of whatever island Flint decides to drop him off on. </p><p>Silver mutters foul curses under his breath as he walks back to the Captain’s quarters, the dawn of their decision approaching. </p><p>Flint’s decision. </p><p>He feels not more than a messenger boy, ferrying placations or incitements to the crew from Flint. </p><p>“They’re… Anticipating,” Silver says after closing the doors behind him and Flint barely lifts his gaze from the papers on his desk. </p><p>“With fear?”</p><p>“With… With faith,” Silver says with a wry laugh, “In <em>you</em>, despite it all.”</p><p>--</p><p>
  <em>‘Where else would you wake up in the morning and matter?’</em>
</p><p>It echoes in his head while he’s laying with his leg aching and his head throbbing in Flint’s cabin. </p><p>Where else would he matter?  Where else would he have people tending to him, helping him heal, saving him in the first place?</p><p>Silver glances over at Flint, sitting to his side, leaned back against the wall, one leg over the other, book in hand. </p><p>“Could you answer me something?” Silver asks quietly, voice a bit hoarse still from crying and screaming and-</p><p>Flint lifts his gaze from the pages and meets Silver’s eyes. </p><p>“Why do you care?” Silver asks and it’s hoarse, more uncertain than he intends it to be, “Why am I… Why am I in your <em>cabin</em>, for starters?”</p><p>“You needed a quiet place to rest,” Flint murmurs, dropping his eyes back to continue reading, “This is often the quietest part of the ship.”</p><p>“And you agreed to this?”</p><p>“It was my idea,” Flint uncrosses his legs and sits up a bit, “No one had to convince me of this arrangement.”</p><p>“... <em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“You’re injured.”</p><p>“So is half the-”</p><p>“You know that’s not the same,” Flint lowers the back to level Silver with a serious look, “You were out of your mind for a bit, after.”</p><p>“I told them… Howell was having everyone… I said I didn’t want it, didn’t want to lose my leg,” Silver mumbles, laying back more heavily on the window bed. </p><p>“The alternative would be dying from your leg-”</p><p>“I’m aware,” Silver says, a bit sharp and Flint falls silent. </p><p>Stands. </p><p>“It’s not that I’m ungrateful- I don’t… I’m surprised, a bit, I suppose.”</p><p>“Hm,” Flint rises from the chair, leaving the book behind and comes closer to Silver, pouring water from the pitcher into one of the small cups and it’s not the first time he’s done this. </p><p>Poured Silver a drink, despite the younger man being perfectly capable of using his arms. </p><p>Silver pushes himself up a bit and the cup is pushed into his hands, held onto for a moment until Flint is sure he’s got a grip on it. </p><p>“You said you didn’t want to be a pirate, not long ago,” Flint says quietly as he lingers, close to Silver’s bedside, “That doesn’t negate your current place, here.”</p><p>“You said something about me mattering,” Silver says hoarsely after taking a sip, “You didn’t mean it kindly.”</p><p>“No, I didn’t.”</p><p>“... What happens if I don’t matter to you any longer?” Silver asks quietly and it’s a fear that’s been echoing in his mind since he saw the despair and determination on Howell’s face.</p><p>“I…” Flint frowns down at him lightly, brows furrowed and Silver closes his eyes, bracing for whatever blunt, harsh truth is about to come out of the Captain’s mouth and- “I don’t see that happening, not any time soon.”</p><p>Silver slowly blinks open his eyes and looks up at Flint, who’s studying him with a look of conflict on his face. </p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“If you’re trying to trick me into inflating your ego-”</p><p>“I’m not,” Silver admits hoarsely, “That’s not… I’ve thought several times over that you… The crew, as a whole, would be better off without me dragging behind but I-”</p><p>“You’d be wrong,” Flint says quietly. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“We wouldn’t be better off, without you…”</p><p>Silver can’t seem to get any words to form a coherent reply and Flint watches him for a moment longer then moves, pulls back and exits the Captain’s cabin. </p><p>--</p><p>He continues sleeping in Flint’s cabin and it leaves him privy to just how little the older man sleeps himself. </p><p>“Heard that’s bad for your heart,” Silver mumbles, laying on his side, looking at Flint at the desk from behind. </p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>“Not sleeping,” Silver pushes himself up then gasps as pain shoots up his leg. </p><p>He sees Flint move out of the corner of his eyes then there’s a hand under his face and he grips it without a second thought, letting Flint help him into a sitting position. </p><p>“... This isn’t sleeping, either,” Flint murmurs but there’s a touch of concern lingering low in his voice, almost imperceptible, “Did the pain wake you?”</p><p>“No… No it-” Silver swallows roughly and squeezes, realizes he’s still clinging to Flint’s hand and lets go quickly. </p><p>Flint lingers for a moment, shifts his weight, then turns and slowly sits next to Silver on the edge of the bed. </p><p>“Nightmare,” Silver mutters with a vague gesture, as though to wave away the nightmare and the lingering fear from it. </p><p>“This is… A difficult thing,” Flint says slowly. </p><p>“I’m not saying this to be-”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I just can’t seem to… Move on.”</p><p>“Why should you?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Why should you <em>move on?”</em> Flint asks quietly, gestures at the pinking, slowly healing end of Silver’s thigh, “This isn’t a moment that will fade into the oblivion of living. You won’t forget this, nor should you.”</p><p>“... I’d like to.”</p><p>“You’re… You can’t expect to find a way back to before,” Flint says carefully, “It seems like that’s what you’re trying to do, but I can guarantee you, that’s not possible, nor is it ‘moving on’.”</p><p>“I’m aware I cannot simply regrow my <em>leg</em>,” Silver says thickly, “I’m <em>aware</em>.”</p><p>“But you expect to be the same, to think and function just the same as you did before,” Flint murmurs, “Are you aware of that?”</p><p>“... Yes.”</p><p>“Now that I’ve pointed it out,” Flint huffs quietly and leans towards the little table with the pitcher, grabbing a small jar from atop it and bringing it back, rolling it in his palm, “Howell brought this, it’s for your leg, not the wound but… The surrounding muscles.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Silver can’t help but mutters, glaring tiredly at the jar, “Yes I know this, he used this before.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“It’s… I suppose I do it myself now, it’s something for the muscle wasting,” Silver grumbles and holds his hand out, “Helps with the aching, but makes it momentarily worse while being applied.”</p><p>Flint doesn’t hand it over and Silver falters, a bit, flexing his outstretched finger. </p><p>“Would you like me to help?” Flint asks quietly. </p><p>“You don’t have to do-”</p><p>“I am offering,” Flint says and shifts the jar again, “Rather than just sitting with you struggling behind me.”</p><p>Silver stares at the jar, Flint’s hands, then his leg.</p><p>Then nods. </p><p>Flint stands off the bed and sets the jar back down, rolling up his sleeves and Silver breathes out shakily. </p><p>Then Flint lowers himself to kneel in front of Silver and the younger man feels a tingling go down his spine, hardly decipherable whether it’s fear or anticipation. </p><p>Flint glances up at him then nudges the blanket up Silver’s thigh, letting it drape to cover his crotch, the nightshirt he’s been living in lately tangled around his hips. </p><p>“Is this alright?” Flint asks quietly. </p><p>“I’m fine with it,” Silver whispers. </p><p>Flint hums softly and scoops some of the salve out of the jar on his fingers, pressing his hands together to warm it. </p><p>Silver’s struck dumb by the small act of kindness, blinking at Flint’s hands. </p><p>There’s been plenty of obvious, greater acts of kindness between them, towards Silver, from Flint and the crew. </p><p>This though… Strikes something needy in Silver, something hungry. </p><p>Flint’s hands settle one over the other on his thigh and Silver bites back a weak sound of pain. </p><p>The whole limb is tender and angry and Flint’s rough hands are careful, getting an even coating over Silver’s skin, carefully avoiding any still open or healing areas, gently lifting and manipulating Silver’s leg then returning his hands back to where they started. </p><p>Silver’s breathing a bit heavier through his nose, eyes closed tight, biting hard on his lower lip. </p><p>“Are <em>you</em> alright?” Flint murmurs and his elbow nudges Silver’s good leg, “I need to rub this in?”</p><p>“I can do it if-”</p><p>“I’m not protesting, I’m just clarifying that’s what should be done, <em>yes</em>?” Flint asks, a bit firmer and Silver nods roughly. </p><p>Flint’s hands slowly start to move, again, following the same paths but this time with a firm pressure, digging into the weakened muscles. </p><p>When he lifts Silver’s leg and drags his thumbs over the flesh he catches a particularly tender spot and Silver jolts forward, instinctively grabbing onto Flint’s upper arm, squeezes the sleeve with a weak, high-pitched noise of pain. </p><p>Flint goes rigid under his touch and Silver’s aware he’s probably made the older man uncomfortable but he can’t seem to will his body to pull back, the pain thrumming through him like lighting in his nerves. </p><p>“Sorry-” Silver gasps for the apology and squeezes Flint’s arm tighter, <em>“Fuck.”</em></p><p>Flint gently lowers Silver’s leg and move to the last two sections. </p><p>“We’ll avoid that spot this time, I think,” Flint murmurs. </p><p>Silver nods weakly, still hunched over, and flexes his hand, fingers wrapping around the cap of Flint’s shoulder. </p><p>Feeling the muscles and joint moving as Flint finishes rubbing the salve in. </p><p>Then lingers, waiting. </p><p>“It’s a pain that just… Consumes your body, for a moment,” Silver says quietly and slowly lets go on Flint’s shoulder, “I apologize.”</p><p>“You don’t need to.”</p><p>“I… Alright,” Silver whispers and Flint moves to stand, moves to wipe off his hands and Silver watches. </p><p>As a golden light forms, a sliver across the cabin, slowly growing taller, brighter. </p><p>He turns to see the sun rising on the horizon, filtering in through the singular open window. </p><p>“You didn’t sleep,” Silver says quietly as Flint returns to his desk. </p><p>“<em>You</em> should rest,” Flint mutters, sits down, his head cocked just enough that Silver knows the older man’s attention is on him, not the papers on the desk. </p><p>“I’ve done nothing but rest.”</p><p>“And yet, I’d say you need more,” Flint pauses for a moment, “That’s not up for debate.”</p><p>“... Thank you,” Silver whispers as he lays back down and it’s loaded with layers of gratitude. </p><p>Flint just hums quietly in response and his attention shifts to the papers and Silver closes his eyes tightly. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie">my twitter</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.twitter.com/swampslip">horny twitter</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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